


Divorce

by Josselin



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Imported
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:10:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A schmoopy short fic—not my most brilliant work ever, that’s for sure.  I seem to have a thing for rings.  It must be to compensate for my utter hatred of any mention of the word love.</p><p>A shout-out to Erin on the bone-handled razor.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> A schmoopy short fic—not my most brilliant work ever, that’s for sure. I seem to have a thing for rings. It must be to compensate for my utter hatred of any mention of the word love.
> 
> A shout-out to Erin on the bone-handled razor.

Justin went to bed angry. And he woke up angry. Three days later, he was still angry, and he announced to Brian that he wanted a divorce.

Brian was working on his computer and didn’t even look away from the screen.

“I’m serious,” Justin said, getting up and going over to the closet to pull out a duffel bag. “I’m leaving. I can’t take this anymore, Brian.”

Brian looked up, once, eyed the duffel bag Justin was shoving his clothes into, and then looked back at his screen.

Justin gathered his toothbrush from the bathroom and his sketchbooks from the coffee table and his backpack from by the couch, and was irritated that Brian still wasn’t paying any attention to him.

He decided to go for Brian’s secret weaknesses. Brian was a materialist at heart—he got attached to his things. But it was never predictable things, the way you could guess that Michael would get attached to his collector’s editions or anything. No, Brian casually threw out presents people got him and treated expensive clothes like dishrags but grew attached to the oddest things—a cheap shell bracelet he got in Mexico, a wooden salad bowl he’d bought at the Pottery Barn of all breeder places, a scrabble game so old the corners of the box were taped together, stuff like that.

“I’m taking the salad bowl with me,” Justin said loudly, going into the kitchen to pull it out of the cupboard. He watched Brian carefully for a reaction. Brian looked up sharply at this announcement, and he watched as Justin climbed up on the counter to get the salad bowl out of the cupboard above the refrigerator, but he didn’t say anything.

Justin took the bowl down and set it on top of his bag, and then glared at where Brian was still busy staring at the computer screen. He went back into the bathroom. “And I’m taking your razor, too.”

That got a reaction from Brian, and Justin gloated in the bathroom where Brian couldn’t see him.

“Why the fuck do _you_ need _my_ razor?” he asked from his computer, and Justin smirked at himself in the bathroom mirror, but by the time Justin left the bathroom with Brian’s bone-handled favorite razor in hand, Brian had himself back under control and was staring again at his computer screen.

When he told Brian that he was taking Brian’s favorite coffee mug, too, Brian just said, “Fine. Would you just leave already? Jesus.”

Justin decided this called for desperate measures, so he went back over to the dresser to try to find Brian’s favorite pair of socks, so he could take those, too.

He could feel Brian’s eyes on his back as he searched through Brian’s underwear drawer, and he had trouble finding the socks—maybe they were dirty, he finally conceded disappointedly. But just as he was about to give up, he saw a small jewelry box tucked away in the back of the drawer behind the thongs that Brian never wore anymore.

He pulled the box out, and opened it, and inside there was a ring—a thin, plain, platinum band. Justin plucked the ring out of the box and tried it on his finger, where it fit remarkably well, and he could almost _feel_ Brian fidgeting behind him at the computer now.

Justin felt a small smile begin to grow on his face, and he slid the ring off again, and looked to see if there was anything inscribed inside it.

There was. In all caps block text, the ring said, “BULLSHIT.”

Justin cracked up. Maybe he’d never understand Brian, hell, he was pretty sure that Brian would never understand Brian and the rest of the world never stood a chance.

Still snickering, Justin walked over to Brian at his computer, where Brian was staring blankly. Just as Justin came up behind Brian, the screensaver flashed on, and Justin couldn’t help but gloat a little more at this proof of Brian’s distraction.

“I’ve decided,” Justin said, and Brian gave up the computer screen pretense and swiveled his chair around to look at Justin defiantly. “I’ve decided I’m taking the ring, too,” Justin finished.

Brian raised a challenging eyebrow. Justin nodded, and moved closer to straddle Brian’s lap and lean in for a kiss. And Brian might not have known how to _say_ he was sorry, but his lips communicated it nonetheless.

“Good,” Brian said, when their kiss ended and Justin caught his breath.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’d miss me _so_ much,” Justin teased.

Brian snorted. “No, I just don’t want to have to find another decent salad bowl. You know how long it took me to find—“

Justin cut him off with a kiss. Because you know, maybe Brian was right, and talking was overrated.

THE END


End file.
